


Frodo's Heart

by laEsmeralda



Series: Arwen's Book of Secrets [5]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 16:20:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6057955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laEsmeralda/pseuds/laEsmeralda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas triggers a healing event that brings Arwen and Frodo into somewhat more intimate contact; please skip if this in any way offends you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frodo's Heart

Surrounded by the wholesome beauty of the Shire, I have spent time alone with Frodo at last. Together, we have walked in the woods, sung songs, enjoyed the ever-present food. He is a marvel of a spirit. I feel deep sorrow that his sacrifice for all of us will soon take him from our reach.

We have spoken of the complexity of our lives, our great joy and our troubles. We have pondered our differing love for a certain elf who has turned both our worlds on end. At last, we have shared in conversation how lonely it can be sometimes to have the one each of us loved first, and with our whole hearts, gone off with the other's first love. This has become a bond between us that we imagine few others can claim.

This closeness inevitably brought us to discuss family. One afternoon, I sat with Frodo on a blanket under his favorite tree, and he told me fondly of how Bilbo took him in when he had nowhere to go. I thought of what Legolas had told me months before about Frodo's heart. "Was there no one else to help care for you as you grew? No aunt or doting neighbor?"

"No," he replied in sudden wonderment. "I had never thought of that, but no. It was always Bilbo. Oh, sometimes Gandalf was here and helped care for me when I was ill. But years would go by that we wouldn't see him. And other Shire folk kept their distance."

I said indignantly, "I find I do not think much of hobbit women that they could neglect you so."

Frodo responded with one of those most guileless of smiles. "My Lady, what a kind thing to say." He put aside the half-eaten apple. "You must remember that the Bagginses, while prominent, are regarded as strange. I am hardly an exception, being adopted." 

"It is no excuse," I said, surprised to feel tears come to my eyes.

He sat up straighter with sudden concern. "What troubles you?" He reached out and almost wiped a tear away before pulling his hand back, unsure. "Oh, do not be sad for me, I cannot bear it."

"It angers me to think that you should have done without affection and comfort for so long. I have no doubt that Bilbo did his very best, but what a lonely life you had after he left." That was not the worst of it, not by far. I struggled to speak further. "It pains me that you have found love at last with Legolas, only for both of you to face an impossible choice." I could not help but think of my own choice, and my father's decision. 

Frodo's bright eyes flashed in his pale face. "There is no choice. He must stay here with you."

"He wishes to go with you." I do not say to him that Legolas is torn, for I know what he would choose even without the sea grasping at his mind.

"No. It is not only Aragorn. There are other reasons for him to stay. He thinks that he is ready to leave, because of me, but he is not." Frodo shook his head vehemently. "The truth is that I could die before I reach Valinor. I try to hide from Legolas how much more often the sickness comes now. Even with the healing, I could die soon after arriving in the West. And then Legolas would be separated from you and Aragorn and Gimli as well as from me. No, I will not allow it." His conviction left no room for argument.

"We two are ill-suited in heart to what we have endured, too soft for this world." The tears were running now as I felt humbled by the depth of his love. I reached into my pocket for a handkerchief but he knelt before me, wiping my cheeks with both hands, his own eyes glistening in response. 

"We are stronger than the others will ever know, you and I," he said. "Do not cry. I am happy. Truly happy. Let us not spoil it with thinking of futures that cannot be."

At that, without thinking, I reached for him and drew him into my lap. He came willingly, knowing that I did not treat him as a child but as a fellow tender heart. In truth, I was the one in need of comforting. I held him for a long time, letting my tears flow. He lay close to my heart, wrapping his arms about my waist and shutting his eyes with a contented sigh. 

A sweet song came to mind, something Galadriel used to sing to me in her gardens, and I sang it to Frodo and stroked his hair. His heavy lashes flickered up, and he watched me, studying my face with such solemn eyes. 

"I may be an orphan," Frodo said quietly afterward, "but do not mourn for me. I have been given a wonderful fostering: a father whom I will soon see again, a grandfather with a heart of magic who will travel with me to the far lands, a dearest brother, and cousins. Now, I have you."

"Have I joined your family?" I asked, inexplicably joyous at the prospect.

He smiled broadly. "Yes. Sing to me again, Arwen." I could not refuse. His ink-stained hand caressed my cheek in cadence with the song. But his lids grew heavy, and his hand fell back. When, at last, I knew he was asleep, I rolled to my side on the blanket, curling around him and allowing myself to sleep as well, his contentment and warmth easing the pain I felt for us both.

I awoke to find Aragorn sitting on his haunches before me, a smile playing at his lips. I still had Frodo clasped to me and several locks of my hair were caught fast in his hand.

"I trust you did not mention chocolates?" Aragorn asked gently, humor in his eyes. 

I grinned at him. "We should not even know about that, my love," I whispered.

"It was told with the best of intentions. It seems my fair elves are both smitten, and I am destined to find the Ring-bearer sleeping in their arms." He smiled. "I know why. Frodo is the very personification of unselfish love."

"That is apt." I whispered, and Frodo stirred at our voices. He blinked sleepily at Aragorn and smiled, still too befuddled with napping to think on decorum. 

Aragorn leaned down and placed a kiss on his forehead and another on his cheek before sitting back on his heels. "I am here to deliver an invitation. We are called to a hobbit revel, which I am told means much food and few guests. Sam and Rosie are busy setting the tables." Aragorn picked up a leaf and toyed with it. "I understand that Legolas is assisting with the preparations as well. He awaits your return with some impatience." 

"Although it all sounds delightful, I find I am loathe to leave my rest," Frodo said with a wide smile as he stretched a bit.

Aragorn threw back his head and laughed. "I am certain that Arwen will welcome you back to her arms another time."

"Kisses from the King as well?" Frodo grinned with mischief.

"Only more of the same sort." Aragorn's answer was kind but firm.

Frodo shook his head. "Ah, well, despite what you may have heard from troublemaking elves, that is all I would want, Strider." Frodo's beatific smile made us both laugh.

"You continue to be a surprise, Mr. Underhill."

"Let us go to dinner, my friends," Frodo touched my lips with his hand for a moment before scrambling to his feet. "We have the glory of a true hobbit feast to surprise you next."  
*******

In the rebuilding, the hobbits had established a grand hall for common use, with smaller and larger rooms for events, a fine kitchen, fire pits, and cunningly wrought tables for use outdoors in lovely weather. It was here that we gathered, mindful of the absent, but glad to have so many of us together.

Legolas emerged from the trees in the direction of Bag End, a warm glow about him in the twilight. Frodo had arrived a quarter hour before him. There was no doubt from the look of our elf that they had been together not long before. Legolas stopped next to Frodo, clasped one of his hands, and tenderly kissed him on the mouth. He made some sort of quip then, making Rosie laugh and clap her hands together. Frodo grinned as well, and Legolas continued over to us.

He wore a homespun shirt of hobbit craft, white and so fine a linen as to show the shadows of his skin beneath it, with blue silk scrollwork at the open neck and rolled up cuffs. The tailor had taken pride in the work of fitting an unusual form; the shirt narrowed at the waist and flared slightly over the hips, providing some modesty for closely worked breeches of earth-colored suede. Such simple clothes, made with love and care, were more than fit for this prince.

I noticed that his hair was fully down, something I rarely see in the company of others. Loose around his face, it made him seem more relaxed, more open. It always makes for a compelling change. Aragorn shifted on his feet beside me, the way a horse does in anticipation that the bridle is about to be removed before pasturing. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

"Arwen, Aragorn," Legolas said warmly, embracing us both together. He kissed my cheek and brushed his lips over Aragorn's brow. We had just seen him that afternoon, yet he seemed so different.

"But for my respect for the hobbit's heart, I would crush you to the grass here and now," Aragorn whispered hoarsely. I could see him restrain himself from reaching to touch Legolas' face.

Legolas grinned. "You would have quite a curious audience, my friend."

"I care not," Aragorn said hotly.

"Only because you know that at this moment you are safe from being tested," Legolas continued to smile, but I knew through his voice the strain for all of us of secrecy. He sighed. "Merry and Pippin alone could cause a world of damage without meaning to."

"Further," I said, "it would be disrespectful to Frodo, to show the complexity of things here before the others, however understanding he may be himself."

Legolas nodded. "You know he is first here, and it is no reflection upon my love for you," he spoke to Aragorn but touched my hair.

"I do not make you glow like this," Aragorn said, low and husky, and the sound of his arousal spread through me like miruvor. 

"Mayhap it is the hobbit garb," Legolas grinned, deflecting the compliment. "Thanks to a certain meadow and your knife, I needed to replace a change of clothing upon our arrival, else I would go about naked half the time."

"Nay, it is more than that." Aragorn studied him, "I cannot help my interest, it has been a long week without you."

"You have been longer without me," Legolas replied, "and it will be longer still this time." He warned gently, but firmly.

My husband nodded. "You know that I am not without restraint, and I mean no harm by uttering my thoughts aloud. I want you to know that these days, you are missed." He paused, looking for words. "I do not begrudge him."

The magnetism between them pulled at me as well. Legolas sighed. "You should know by now that I welcome your touch always. Yet, I try not think on it when I am with Frodo." Legolas looked for a long moment to Frodo, engaged in conversation with Sam, and then returned his gaze to Aragorn. "I need you to understand that I am with him here, and only him. This is his home. It is important to me to honor each relationship to its fullest. Given your need for secrecy, I have no choice but to divide my life in this manner."

Aragorn sighed. "Forgive my selfishness, Legolas."

"Always," Legolas smiled cannily, causing us to laugh. "Now, come and join us for dinner. Enjoy the unparalleled hospitality of the hobbits. Pardon me for saying so, Arwen, but they put Lord Elrond's house and my father's tables to shame."  
*******

Legolas and Frodo said their goodnights to the guests and slipped away late in the evening, hand in hand. I felt Aragorn watch them go, though he continued speaking with Sam. I rubbed his shoulders, smiling to think it an unqueenly gesture, but a homely and soothing one that a wife should always be allowed. He relaxed somewhat under my hands.

We sat around the fire, picking at the last tidbits of a truly extraordinary meal. No one could stop nibbling, and Sam enjoyed many compliments to his cooking. Songs were sung aplenty, jests told, and general good humor shared all around. The hobbits are not swayed much by royalty, and their natural humility is catching. We are old friends now, and station matters not. 

At last, yawning overtook all, and with hugs and much back-thumping, Aragorn and I took our leave for the inn. We strolled across a field well beyond the feasting hall, enjoying the quiet and the clear view of the stars. I leaned against Aragorn as we walked, feeling his warmth in the slight chill.

"You are preoccupied, my love," I said at last.

"I am thinking on the glow that our elf wore tonight."

"He always carries the light with him."

"Yes, but he was unusually radiant." Aragorn linked my arm in his. "Ah well, I shall leave it be." He stopped walking and turned to kiss me, wrapping me up in his cloak with him. "Undomiel," he whispered against my mouth, "I do not mean to be distracted."

"Your love for him has not slighted me in your heart, nor have I lacked for pleasure." I held his eyes in the dim light. "We are ever bound, and I find it touching that you have such capacity for love." Then, I smiled, for he looked so serious. "It helps that I love him too, though differently." I leaned up and kissed him. "Let me see whether I can distract you from your distraction," I quipped, sliding my hands under his shirt. He shivered as my fingers traced his ribs. "It has been some years since we had each other in the night field," I whispered. "There is no one about. I will sing for you under the stars if you wish." I swung his cloak from his shoulders and spread it on the ground.

For a time, I plied him with my mouth, in many places, delighting in his responses. He is always a responsive lover. Finally, I burned too hotly to be denied and was astride before he could miss my lips and tongue or open his eyes. We moved together, familiar and joyous.

Then, I felt him tense and his eyes flew open, unfocused. I had come to recognize that look, that moment, and I knew that somewhere, close by, Legolas was in passion to the point that the connection between them had been made.

"We must be close to Bag End!" I exclaimed, startled. Aragorn did not answer, but thrust up into me again, a deeply pleasurable movement, and I struggled to keep my mind on the danger ahead. "Darling, you must not intrude," I cautioned.

"I did not reach out," he gasped.

"I do not think that he did, my husband, not tonight."

"No, it is the nearness." Aragorn was able to speak, but he was already glassy-eyed. 

"Aragorn, let him go. He is not with us tonight. Leave him be with Frodo." I could discern that he did not truly hear me, or want to hear me.

"I know not what the hobbit does... but Legolas," he gasped, "has completely given over. I have never felt him like this. Magnificent." He pulsed within me, and I knew that his high pleasure was close. I was fast losing my hold.

"You must stop, you must break the connection!"

"I cannot," he breathed, pressing against me hard.

"Cannot, or will not?" I gripped him by his shirt.

His head strained back against the earth, baring his throat. "Cannot," he gritted out. 

"It will breach their trust," I hissed, trying to pull off him, but he held my hips tight. Despite my anger at his recklessness, I was far along myself, and he was moving for both of us.

"Oh, Arwen, he is going to come so hard," he groaned, "I am sorry, but he will take me with him."

That idea was irresistible. At that moment, I glimpsed what he felt of the sensation pouring through Legolas. I sang with my own pleasure, hoping that Legolas would hear me and realize that we were near, giving him the choice to break the connection if he had the strength Aragorn lacked. In a moment, though, I knew that he was not aware of us, and while he may have heard my voice, he had no conscious thought about it. 

Aragorn was right about the power of the feelings overtaking our elf, and the shock that went through me, as the clear voice rang out so very near to us, pushed me into oblivion again. Aragorn thrashed beneath me. I leaned over and bit him on the throat, more viciously perhaps than he deserved, but he cried out and poured into me.

I lay against him, catching my breath, my chest constricted with fear. The thought of hurting Frodo was unbearable. I knew that without elven blood, he could not detect the connection. But what if our passion had flowed back to Legolas, rather than only from him to us, what if he had done or said something of us? It had happened before. And what of Legolas' penchant for honesty?

Aragorn was still gasping. I disengaged from him and righted our clothing. I could see tears rilling down his face, but I did not comfort him. 

"That, was a very bad thing that I just did," he said, his voice breaking.

"Yes, my love, yes it was."

He groaned. "Yet, it was glorious. He is delicious always, but that--"

"Was not about you, and you had no right," I said sharply.

At last, Aragorn rolled to his side and propped himself on an elbow. "I know, yet I could not stop it once it began."

"Nor could I stop you," I thought carefully before my next words. "You were aware, _Ranger_ , when I began with you tonight, that we were close to Frodo's home, were you not?" He nodded. "But I did not know it, and you did not say that we needed to move on. You knew there was a risk this would happen."

He was quiet for another moment before speaking. "I was curious whether the connection could be felt here even without an attempt. I honestly did not believe so." He finally looked at me. "I did not set out to intrude. But I have been drawn to know what brings them together in passion to the point that Legolas would bond to him so."

"Love. Love brings them together."

"I love him. He knows that."

"It is different."

"Why, because I am divided? Legolas is divided as well. We suffer not for it." Aragorn was defensive. "It does not explain the rest--something I have not felt in him before tonight. That complete surrender." His eyes burned at the physical memory of it, and I shivered. He continued, "I want to give him that. I want to feel it again, not just through our spirits, but while I touch him." 

Though I had not experienced it directly, as Aragorn had, just the echo had been enough to ravish me. I debated for several minutes before saying what I knew to be true. I knew it would hurt him and I hesitated. But silence would not do either. "Legolas has never rejected you, Aragorn. Never turned you away. You were able to shut him out, at least for a time. Whatever your motives, he knows you could put him aside. He protects himself, and is guarded deep in his heart."

Aragorn swallowed convulsively. I could tell from his face that he sensed the truth of my words and accepted them, difficult though they were. "Yes," he said at last, with some grief, "Frodo gives his whole heart, no matter the risk, the pain, or the ambition foregone. Legolas comes first."

"And there is no secrecy, no deception. This is why he yields himself entirely to Frodo. It is that power you felt. Let them have it unfettered while they may. Frodo is not long for this world." My tears began anew. "He must soon take one of the ships and will be lost to us all."

Aragorn lay back again. "You are wise, my love. Frodo should have his joy. And I have years to learn to make Legolas happy if he remains in Middle Earth."

"Beware. Although Frodo will not permit Legolas to leave with him, for which I am shamefully grateful, I fear that our elf will be deep in grief for some time before he will be open to happiness of any kind again."

"May that not be true," Aragorn sighed, "but after tonight, I have little doubt that you are right."

"For now, there is only love and play for them, as they well deserve, and you should respect that." As if I had conjured an erotic spirit, a new voice of love was heard, faintly but clearly, and I cocked my head in surprise.

"Harder! Yes... yes! Ah!" The pitch of Frodo's voice at his peak was so unexpectedly male and so wanton as to call me instantly back to heat. Aragorn smiled into my eyes. I cannot hide such things from him.

"Perhaps you will have a care now falling asleep with him in the forest, Wife," he said lasciviously, his hands moving over my bodice to demonstrate the hazards. "You may find that your immunity to particular elves does not extend to certain hobbits." 

"I am immune to everyone but you, Aragorn," I replied, feeling lightheaded. "Usually," I added, thinking of the meadow of wolves, "But the expression of great passion is moving of its own nature, is it not?"

"Umm, I confess, _yes_ , and I wish to spend myself again soon, deep within you."  
*******

I awoke, what may have been a short time or hours later, I could not say. The night was deep, without a hint yet of morning. I was stiff from trying to share a single cloak for warmth, but Aragorn's breath was even and strong as he slept. I smiled and thought how spoiled I was with my soft beds those years that he slept in the wilds. I rolled out from under his arm and nearly shrieked to bump into Legolas. He covered my mouth with his hand, smiling with mischief.

"Come inside the house," he whispered, "Frodo has the fire going and you are cold. Leave the Ranger to the discomfort he deserves for a bit longer."

Despite having to stoop to enter Bag End, I found the home charming. I was soon settled before the fire in what Legolas called "Gandalf's chair," a tall and deep leather chaise with ample arm and head cushions. Legolas draped himself along the rug and placed his bare feet up next to mine. 

Frodo came round the corner from the kitchen, a steaming cup in his hands. "Legolas' favorite tea," he explained. The fragrant brew was most welcome. Over the cup, I looked at Frodo with curiosity. It was so easy to be taken with his fragile appearance, to underestimate him. In focusing on his pain, I had overlooked his zest for life. Even so tired and pale, he was ready for conversation. 

He smiled wholeheartedly back at me. "Are you well?" His eyes glinted with mischief.

I realized suddenly, that in singing to warn Legolas, I had sung to more ears as well, and turned hot, covering my face with one hand. 

Legolas laughed. "It has been a night of strange encounters," he said. I looked down at him, my cheeks still blazing, and he answered, "Yes, I have told Frodo, of course. I was too far gone at the time to notice, as I believe you realized, but after, I knew."

"It is perfectly understandable that a fellow moth cannot stay away from the light," Frodo smiled, "But I do prefer privacy."

"I am so sorry."

"It was not your doing. We know this," Legolas toyed with my sleeve. "Hence, Aragorn will sleep alone for a while in the chill night, and awaken to whatever chastisement I may devise." He smiled wickedly. "You may be certain he will find no satisfaction in it."

I laughed. "He is well matched in mischief after all."

We talked for a time about small things, the three of us, the fire making me sleepy again. 

"Arwen, you are drifting," Legolas' voice was hypnotic, "why don't you close your eyes?"

I was struck by a thought. "Frodo, come sit with me and I will sing us all to sleep."

He climbed into the chair and curled in next to me. Once again, I held him and sang, holding his sleepy gaze until his lashes fluttered down. He was warm and heavy, both of us propped comfortably in the big chair.

I was pleased to know that what I had felt earlier at his passion was entirely gone. I closed my eyes and dozed. At some point, I sensed Legolas' movement and smelled his scent as he draped a blanket over us both. Then, I was fast asleep.  
*******

Later, from the far depths of sleep, I felt hands trace the curve of my breasts through the heavy velvet as if weighing them. A warning grazed my mind, but I did not awaken. Warmth followed the soft touch. My breath quickened, yet the cloying darkness all around would not release me. These caresses seemed to have special knowledge of my body, and only one has that who moves me.

Slowly, consciousness returned, and I knew my surroundings without sight--the great room at Bag End. I could hear the low fire sizzling and feel its heat on my face. I did not open my eyes, for I feared to confirm what I felt to be happening. 

Sure hands undid the laces of my dress and smoothed my chemise aside, baring my flesh. I waited, trembling, fearing and yet wanting the touch to return. When it did, this time on my bare skin, I moaned, the muffled sound of my own voice startling me. But my eyes still would not open. Currents seemed to run through my breasts and down my spine to my center. I could not move, either to resist or participate, nor could I speak. 

Moist lips sought a now-raised nipple, drawing me into a hot mouth, pressing me between soft cheek and firm hand. I knew then that this was Frodo, and still a flood of heat released between my thighs, and I clasped him to me as he sucked. Yet, I struggled with the unreality of the moment. 

But for the undoing of my dress, I could have thought him asleep as he touched me. I wanted to believe he was dreaming of nursing, nothing more, seeking more deeply the long-forgotten maternal warmth that I had offered him in the forest. I sensed strongly that he did not know what he did, did not mean to arouse me, and I was horrified at my own reaction.

By now, I was fully awake, knew I was not dreaming, and forced myself to open my eyes. Indeed, Frodo's dark head was nuzzled to my breast, his body curled over my lap and around me in sleep. I resisted the compelling urge to push him away, and tried first to perceive exactly what was happening. He reflexively kneaded my flesh with one hand as he sucked, the most contented of expressions on his face. The next unexpected thing explained much; I saw that an elegant white hand cupped my breast to Frodo's face, offering easier access.

"Legolas," I gasped.

"Shhh, do not move, do not wake him now, not yet."

"What are you doing," I strove to whisper, but it was difficult.

"Giving you both something you need. If we are quiet, he will fall deeper asleep " 

Frodo moaned a little, a plaintive sound of hunger, and he pressed closer as if unsatisfied. Little shocks moved through me, and tears started in my eyes. "Legolas, if you do not stop this, I am going to lose myself. Right here. Without my husband."

"Indeed not," came a husky voice from behind the chair. Legolas pressed a hand to my shoulder to keep me from sitting up in shock.

"Have you both left your senses?" I was reeling.

"Perhaps," Aragorn answered close to my ear, but I could not see him. "I have been speaking with Legolas about my transgression earlier. He has arrived at a means of contrition."

If my cheeks grew any hotter, I would burst into flame. "Why should your contrition involve me?" I hissed.

"It does not," Legolas replied warmly, "This is for your benefit as I will explain later. Your heart breaks always for Frodo, I know. But now, you feel his power as he draws some of yours, do you not? I trust it is not unpleasant." He smiled.

"I am feeling it to an extent you doubtless do not intend. I do not want to startle or hurt him, but this is too much to be borne." I was regaining some control, forcing myself to block the sensations, focusing my thoughts on the childlike aspect of the touch. Still, I was no one's mother yet, and this contact meant only one thing to me--passion.

"Ah, but I do intend it. I intend for you to enjoy it. This is how Aragorn is repaid for his selfishness, he must share with Frodo your strength, and your pleasure."

I shook my head. "Frodo does not intend what he does. He is but dreaming of his mother." Seeing it in this light helped to cool me, and I moved a curl from Frodo's forehead. "For my part, I am awake, and I find my response unacceptable."

"But you are wrong," said Legolas, low and soft, "although he may wish in his deep heart for his mother's warmth, you are not his mother. He is not a child. Even in his deepest sleep, he knows you. He moved to you as a woman, not as food." Legolas' voice was killing me. "He cannot feel the beauty of you in his mouth and against his skin without all the attendant need. And he does not have a wakeful conscience, as you do, to stop his body."

At such thoughts, the heat flooded back, and deep inside, I felt how smoothly Frodo's tongue cradled my nipple, how he was not just sucking, but feeling. 

"My wakeful conscience says to stop before the time for regrets." I moved to shift Frodo gently away, and found my wrists restrained in a strong grip. 

"Please. I ask you not to yet." With that said, he released me.

"Why?" I managed softly, "I protected you tonight. Or tried."

"Mmm. I do not torture you, but reward you for that loyalty," his voice was intense, near that of the meadow. “I cannot explain yet." He leaned in close. "And I cannot bring you this kind of feeling myself. It does not mean I do not wish to sometimes." 

I heard a small groan from Aragorn. Legolas shushed him, "Be silent, or I will cast you out of the house."

My breath shuddered in and out of me as I fought what was happening in my body. Then, inexplicably, Frodo fell into an even deeper sleep, and went still, his mouth going soft and releasing me. His fingers remained splayed against me. I lay my head back, exhausted from effort not to climax. Legolas stepped around the chair and scooped Frodo into his arms, turning him on his other side and laying him back against me. 

I looked at him astonished. "You will surely wake him!"

"Nay, not now. I have oft seen him in this state, it is very hard to wake him from it. He passes ever closer to the wraith world. We may even speak normally now and he will not rouse."

I feared for Frodo then, and held him tightly. For a few minutes he lay very still, his cheek hot against me, his eyelids flickering in dream. Legolas gently pulled my chemise up on the other side, half covering me. Where the cloth touched me, I shivered. 

"You are tantalized, my wife, I told you to have a care in holding the hobbit to you." Aragorn's tone was heavy with arousal. Legolas glared at him again.

I shook my head, unable to answer him. Legolas took one of Frodo's ink-stained hands, ring finger missing, the work of gardens under the nails, and laid it on the swell of my breast. Frodo stirred a little then, and his lips brushed against me. He mouthed the flesh there as if surprised to find it again, and his brow wrinkled.

"You fear that we corrupt something sacred," Legolas breathed, "It is not so. Do you trust me?" He held my eyes, and his were clear and true.

"Yes."

"Absolutely?"

"Yes."

"Give in to him. Help him taste you."

Thus commanded by the love in our elf, I reached to press the side of my breast with one palm, causing the nipple to surge forward and touch Frodo's parted lips. With a soft sound of satisfaction, he took me in again, his hand tightening down on me. 

Immediately, the deep craving for climax returned and I bit my lip. Frodo's whole body felt hot against me. Some fantastic scent began to surround him that I could not place. It was intoxicating.

"He has had his pleasure three times since this afternoon," Legolas whispered, "yet, I wager if I touched him now, I would find him hard again."

"Do it," Aragorn hissed, his throat tight with passion.

"I told you I would put you out of the house. One more word..." Legolas said with a remarkably cold gaze leveled at Aragorn. Finally, he seemed satisfied by the resulting silence. "Look well, Aragorn, you will not see its like again. But speak not."

The little shocks continued, sparking the flesh all over my body. I could hardly look at Frodo, for when I did, I could see my breast half buried in his mouth, his nostrils quivering in deep breaths, and it was shockingly sensual to see. 

Fluid had begun to pass from me to him, what, I knew not, but pure pleasure was passing back from him to me. I slipped my hand behind Frodo's head, into his hair, and held him harder to me, causing a sudden release into his mouth. When we shifted, his weight pressing me into the chair, I thought I would lose myself right then.

At my sharp intake of breath, Legolas knelt before me. "Is it good?"

"Yes," I whispered, my head rolling on the chair back.

"I knew that it would be. Love is so vast in him, it is medicine for the soul." Legolas clasped his hand to Frodo's trousers. "Ah, I was right, he is aching again." His voice grew powerful in his own renewed heat, and he seemed to shimmer in the firelight. 

"What should I do?" I said, dizzy. "I cannot stop it, and I am certain to wake him with my voice." The ripples were already beginning high up in my stomach and pressing down on the tightness in my loins.

"Do not fight it any longer, I will bring him with you," Legolas' hand slipped into the trousers, and Frodo shuddered. 

"Will he bite me?"

"He will not."

With Legolas caressing him, Frodo began to suck harder, his manner changing from the seeking of comfort to passionate demand. I gasped, desperate in pleasure.

Legolas groaned, "Arwen, this must be done. I will explain after."

"It is already done," I wept the first notes of song as a revelatory sensation spread from my breast through the rest of my body. I arched up, pressed tight to Frodo's flank as wave after wave took me, strong and slow and steady. My heartbeat sounded loudly in my head.

Frodo moaned against my flesh as he came under Legolas' touch, the vibration of his voice heady as it passed through me, but he did not stop feeding. 

The look on Legolas' face was beautifully open as he touched Frodo and watched him. His eyes flicked briefly to mine, and I saw him truly unguarded. 

After what seemed like long minutes of spending, I lay back breathless, my arms and legs weak. Legolas reached for a cloth to wipe his hands, but I could not even move to close my dress. Had I been able, Frodo's mouth was still on me, and it would not have been my choice to dislodge him. 

"Mmm," Frodo finally said as if from very far away, licking my skin delightfully in between words, "Legolas, what have I dreamed? I have the sweetest taste in my mouth, and the most luscious flesh at my lips."

Legolas wrapped his arms around Frodo and turned him so that he might kiss that mouth over and over. I reached to lace my dress, wondering how my fingers could move at all. 

"It is the taste of healing." Legolas said, "How do you feel?"

"Wonderful," Frodo murmured, "so good. What have you done to me, my love? You were touching me, I know that. Did I dream?"

"Are you certain you wish to know?" Legolas' eyes sparkled and I knew at last Frodo that was fully awake, sleepily unaware of my presence. 

"We have no secrets," he replied.

"Please do not be angry with me, then," Legolas began, a bit of mischief tugging at his lips, "I have spent you in the lap of the Queen." 

Frodo startled at that and sat up to look at me. "Valar and Maiar!" He was beautiful and flushed, instead of pale, with an unearthly shine in his eyes. I did my best to return his regard with a reassuring smile. He lowered his gaze quickly. 

Legolas continued, "She has gifted you with something special of which she knows not herself." We both looked at him in surprise. "In her deepest pleasure, Arwen has given you an elixir of healing. That is what tastes so sweet to you still." Legolas touched his own lips and smiled at me.

"That has never happened before," I said bewildered. 

"It is not given easily, only with special kinship to the wounded one, and patience, hastened with great pleasure."

"How do I not know of this?"

"It is a battle-healer's secret, ancient lore, a way for an elven woman to ease a warrior's pain and perhaps to save him from even grievous wounds."

"This was the price for my intrusion." Aragorn spoke from a chair in the far corner, and I thought Frodo would initially die of fright. "To assist in this. Though, I am dumbstruck with what I have seen," he murmured, "it hardly seems a price."

"Why did you not simply explain, Legolas? I would have willingly helped him."

"I do not think you would have been able to give yourself over to it, and if it had failed, you would have felt responsible. You are half-elven, and it might not have succeeded."

Frodo cleared his throat and sat back off my lap as he looked at Legolas. "Give herself over to what?" His voice quavered and I cast my eyes down so that he would not feel more uncomfortable. 

"I have never brought her to pleasure that way," Aragorn said, low and humble.

Frodo looked from Aragorn to me, and back again, looking as though he himself had done something frightful. "Someone please tell me what is going on?"

Legolas bent to Frodo's ear, his mellifluous voice explaining to Frodo more privately. Frodo's eyes widened in shock, and a hand went to his mouth.

Suddenly, my breasts ached for him again, and I instinctively crossed my arms over them. I could feel a trickle slide down the underside of the one he had first touched. In another moment, Legolas' nostrils flared, and he looked to me. I knew he could smell it, but he said nothing. 

Several moments passed. I swallowed heavily. "It seems I have more to give, Frodo, if you are willing."

He shook his head, "I cannot do this with you."

"You already have." 

"But I was not aware. I am now."

At last Legolas spoke what was most on his mind. "Frodo, it is precious, and it will go to waste when it could instead give you more time. More time with me." This had an impact, yet Frodo wavered.

"Please, do it because I ask you," I trembled at my own words, wanting to help but ashamed that I so needed him to touch me again.

After a long pause, he nodded, reluctant.

"I must lie down, though, " I said, "I am suddenly so tired."

Legolas helped me to my feet. "It is taxing to bring the elixir, but soon you will sleep in peace. Since I came to Bag End," he said in a lighter tone, "the bed is large enough for your comfort. Aragorn and I will stay down here and talk. We have much to discuss." 

My husband began to prepare his pipe, smiling to himself. "What a strange night," he sighed.

I followed Frodo to a stairway that ascended to the bower above, built as their bedroom, where I could stand easily. The roof was carefully woven to be watertight, yet clever windows let in the moon and starshine. The woven walls had been plastered cleanly. A stove glowed in the corner, a mirror hung on one wall next to a peg on which Legolas' cut leggings hung, and the rest of the room was filled with an enormous four-poster bed piled with comforts. I smiled at the thought of them sharing this nest. 

Frodo turned down the blankets. He could not look at me. "I do not know what to say."

"I share your discomfort, but I am glad that I can help you. Do not refuse, my friend." I cast my voice to soothe him, and began on my laces. He paled a little then, so I spoke again. "I will take off my outer dress that I might lie more comfortably, but I will still be clothed." He nodded shyly and I turned my back to lift the heavy fabric over my head. I slipped into the bed and settled on my side, arranging pillows while he climbed in. 

"What will happen?" he asked.

"This time? I know not." He studied my face but did not ask what I knew was on his mind. Again, I decided to be strong and speak of it first. "Before, you gave me extraordinary pleasure with just that touch. I am sorry if this makes you feel strange. I certainly feel strange. Neither of us intended it. But apparently, it was necessary to bring the healing."

"I would never disrespect you, My Lady." His eyes shone darkly.

"You could never do so, Ring-bearer." 

He nodded and climbed into the bed, sliding to his side next to me, head resting on his folded arm. Then, he closed his eyes and waited. I smiled at the gentle consideration for my modesty--what was left of it.

I could not tell him that I thrilled at the thought of his mouth on me again, that I ached for it. I willed my heartbeat to slow so he would not sense it racing. Pulling my clothing aside, I brought him to me. Pearly drops glistened on my skin, welling out to meet his lips. He was tentative at first, sampling a few swallows. I tried not to quiver as he inadvertently flicked his tongue over my nipple.

"Mmm," he said, then, despite himself, which did not help me. He pulled his mouth away, "It is lovely, but my head swims with the taste. I feel dizzy, like I might fall."

I laughed a little. "You cannot fall from this bed, it is too large, but I will hold you steady even so," I said, sliding my arms around him. He sighed, and this time, put his mouth to me himself. I reached for his free hand and placed it on my skin near his cheek, pressing lightly. "This will help you release it as you want more." 

I concentrated on my breath for a few minutes to little avail. I tried thinking of other things, but could not focus on anything but his mouth. With each swallow, I ached again, and with each draw, I felt exquisite relief. Frodo relaxed into the rhythm, and pulled more deeply, pressing his face to me harder. Every minute or so, he sighed contentedly. I wondered how long it would take for him to drink his fill, and whether my body would know to stop preparing more. I sensed that as long as a drop remained in me, I would have this unstoppable craving for his touch.

It seemed an eternity. I wanted it to end. I wanted it to go on. I could not help but watch him this time. The faint circles under his eyes had faded yet more, and the bloom on his cheek was refreshed. His thick lashes flickered as he kept his eyes closed for me and I knew he did not sleep. 

There had been something about naked contact with Frodo's skin that moved me, even before the process of healing began. I realized that this is what Legolas had stumbled upon, had responded to with passion, perhaps too lightly at first. It had taken him unaware to true love. 

Perhaps elfkind are more open to this influence. It had not affected the hobbits, or dwarf, or humans. It had affected the Ring. A Ring forged by elves, however corrupt they were.

Frodo's brow knitted and he opened his eyes. It was a startling thing to feel him on me and also look into the clear blue of his gaze. I felt an extra shock of pleasure. Fortunately, he withdrew his lips to whisper.

"Were you just thinking of the Ring?"

"Yes," I said, surprised that he could sense it.

"Why?"

"I was thinking of your strong effect on elves, and perhaps sentient objects of elvish origin."

Frodo smiled. "An intellectual exercise at such a moment?"

"It is a necessity at such a moment."

He frowned a little and touched my cheek, "Are you well?"

"It is confusing," I admitted, "but I can see the change in you as you drink. You must finish." I felt of my other breast and found it wet through the cloth. "I say this for good purpose, even though my motives have not been clear for some minutes."

He raised an eyebrow. "I have kept my eyes closed so that I would not look upon your beauty, yet it helps me little in trying to forget what I do here." He leaned forward, eyes still fixed to mine, and slid his lips back over my flesh. I shuddered, and he moved his hand from breast to my waist, as though that would help lessen the intensity. The bliss in his eyes was entire, and I closed my own eyes in defense against it. 

In a few more minutes, he drew away again. "There is no more," he said softly, folding the chemise back against me with a careful hand. 

"You did not finish the other, for we woke you." I reached immediately to slip it free.

He stopped my hand. "Wait, look at me." I did. He smiled lovingly. "You have been generous enough. We should stop."

I swallowed to gain control of my voice. "I have been trying not to speak of this, but if you do not finish, I may go mad with the want of it. You must finish. All of it." 

"I am having trouble being restrained," he said, tension in his voice. "I want to take it all. Quickly."

"You will not hurt me," I laughed, "and it might be for the best if we do not linger. Do what you will." 

The sudden look of lust on his face took my breath. Frodo reached for my breast with both hands, and brought me to his mouth eagerly. This time, his tongue thrust against my nipple over and over as he drank deeply, and he reveled in the whole experience with abandon. The shock of it went so deep in my body that I cried out to him softly.

In response, he moaned and drew harder, caressing with his hands and circling me with his tongue. That was the end of any holding back, and I clenched my teeth not to sing as I bore down on the well of pleasure between my thighs. A strong hand slipped down to press hard against me through thin cloth, as if I had willed it there. I held Frodo tight as he drank in the gush that followed until the last drop had gone. 

Then, he kissed my skin over and over, smaller tastes of my breasts and throat, and finally, my mouth, a hot and languid kiss into which I fell willingly.

I felt my stomach ease at last and I could breathe again as I should. Frodo pulled my clothing over me, pressing his hands to my heart. We wept together then, forehead to forehead. No more was spoken, and we fell into exhausted sleep.

In the light of morning, I awoke to a strange thing and gave myself a fit of giggles. All four of us were stretched out in the big bed, and I thought suddenly what a sight we would be, King, Queen, hobbit, and elf, poorly slept in our mussed clothing. But life could hardly look dismal with all of us together for a time yet, the air cleared between us and Frodo's face glowing with health, however temporary it might be. For a short time, I had felt for myself his lovely heart.  
*******


End file.
